


This Time Around

by kurai_no_tenshi



Series: The New Era [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Multi, Panic Attacks, Suicide Attempt, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurai_no_tenshi/pseuds/kurai_no_tenshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the year 4208, long after the Battle of Camlann, the World Wars, the Fall of the Technological Age and the Loss of History, Merlin is still waiting. However, his wait just might be over sooner than it appears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Prince and the Servant

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tumblr's Merthur Party 2013!
> 
> With special thanks to the mods, every person on the red team who I simply can't mention each and every one of you who have helped me out already because damn, there are a lot of you (WOO! GO RED!), and James, who put up with me for over three hours on a Saturday night via facebook working through the specific details of the world I wanted to create in this story and how long it would take for said world to exist on the earth today, and thus a very crucial element to the plotline.
> 
> Admittedly, I'm not entirely sure if there are going to be any triggers in this story that I should warn people of beforehand. I'm currently still working it out as I go along with this party but I can ASSURE you there will be nothing triggering in the first 4 chapters (or herein, the first 4 prompts of the Merthur Party), aside from reference to major canonical character death. [EDIT: I've changed it to first 4 instead of first 6 because as I really should have expected beforehand, chapter 5 is a rather angsty chapter.] But I can't promise anything yet for part 2.
> 
> Lastly, as a forewarning and a very important notice for everyone reading this (otherwise I get the feeling you'll all get lost tremendously), the chapters will be posted out of chronological order, and they are meant to be read out of chronological order, so it might be a bit confusing to start off with. I likely won't be posting what the correct order is, so happy reading! :)

Over the course of the past hour, Merlin had learnt plenty of information about the small child who had yet ceased to leave him alone. But surprisingly enough, he found that he didn't mind it nearly as much as he'd first thought.

As it turned out, the boy was of the wealthier class in the town. He lived in the easternmost part of the castle- which, Merlin remarked, was where most of the close friends and family and other advisers to the sovereign lived- with his mother and his father. His father worked as one of the many mercenary knights who ambled around this town and many others to help expand the financial reaches of Dref Ynys Afallon. The child himself was training and getting better at sword fighting, and, as he insisted multiple times, was by _far_ the best fighter in his training group. His family had an entire stable full of horses, which was, as he'd remarked, _huge_ , and he'd just previously gotten his very own horse for his annual day of birth. He still had absolutely no idea what he wanted to name that very horse. And he was an only child without any desire for a brother or sister.

In addition, _his mother did in fact know where he was_ , and she had no problem with him venturing out into the forest and by the lake so long as he was by the old pier within the time frame it took her to finish her shopping in the marketplace, didn't tell his father that she'd allowed him to go off without her supervision, and didn't attempt to go swimming in the lake – again. The last one of which made Merlin chuckle; he must have been in the town when that small attempt was made.

Of course, the small boy seemed to notice even the slightest hint of a reaction that Merlin made, and proceeded to try even harder to make the old man laugh over and over again. It was so genuine that the warlock couldn't help but feel his heart swell in admiration, but it also increased the ache he constantly felt in his chest.

He hadn't felt so many emotions constricting in his chest since walking among the ruins of the Fall of the Technological Age. Perhaps it had been even longer than that, he didn't know. He'd lost most of the memories that he might be able to compare it to. Old age did that to a person.

All the warlock really remembered in particular was that it had been a long, long time since he'd felt such pure happiness.

 

~*~

 

He was late. He was very, very, _very_ late, and deep down, Merlin prepared for the certain scolding he was about to endure upon entering Arthur's room.

He was about to push the door open and babble out some excuse or another that the prince certainly wasn't going to listen to, but the warlock paused, and instead chose to knock on the door to the blond's chambers instead of just barging right in as was per usual.

Best to reduce the damage, after all.

Honestly, this time it wasn't even entirely his fault that he practically got stuck in the kitchens. Yes, Merlin had overslept. It was becoming such of a common occurrence lately that he'd gradually been learning how to accommodate his increasing need for sleep and how fast he had to dip through the crowds and various other servants on his way from the physicians quarters to the kitchen, and then from the kitchen to make it to Arthur's chambers on time.

Except for whatever reason, the crowd of people snatching up whatever various plates they could for their lords and ladies this late (again, still not very late, but it was late enough and surely Arthur was going to react as though it had taken him hours to get to his room with his breakfast) was particularly bad this morning. So not only had Merlin never felt so smashed in a crowd of people in his life, but after he'd gotten stuck he was most definitely stuck, without even the slightest chance of getting to the food, let alone getting out of the kitchens to make it back to the princes room in a somewhat decent amount of time.

And if, in fact, Merlin had used a certain special ability to snatch a plate and various other food items beyond his reach then, well, no one had to know. They certainly hadn't noticed.

But of course, because his day certainly hadn't gone bad enough for him, upon finally exiting the kitchen, Merlin was once again practically run over, and had a minor moment of panic when it had come to making sure the food was left untouched and on the plate he was carrying.

It was. Once again very possibly because of a certain spell that may or may not have kept the food in place instead of sending it flying across the room.

To think when he was little he'd thought he might actually have some great, powerful work to do with his magic to change tides or open up the earth, or some sort. Instead he was stuck adhering chicken to a plate to prevent an oncoming disaster that he could avoid.

Well, at least he was using it for something useful, he supposed.

“Enter.”

Arthur's voice sounded a bit more strained than usual, but Merlin chose not to comment and instead pushed the door open as he walked inside and braced himself for his scolding.

A scolding which never came, he noticed after waiting what felt like more than a minute in the open doorway.

“What are you waiting for?” Arthur spoke again, and it was only then that Merlin realised why everything felt so oddly out of place. The prince of Camelot was still covered up on his bed, more so than usual. There were no limbs sticking out and dangling off the side of the bed, and with his head pressed firmly against the pillow his voice had come out somewhat muffled. That must have explained the strain Merlin had noticed earlier.

“Come in and shut the door. It's not like you to be early. Let alone knock.”

Now that. That was odd. Merlin was fairly- well, very, really. Very certain that he was definitely late. He was never one of the best when it came to discerning time, but the sun had been high enough in the sky that morning that he was still fairly certain that early was not the word to use in regards to the time of his arrival.

But if that's what Arthur was inclined to think, Merlin wasn't about to tell him he was wrong, either. Instead the warlock made his way forward, shutting the door behind him, and placed the (by now likely mostly cold) dish on the table, and headed on over to the window.

He drew the curtains only to be met with a sudden stream of light in contrast to the darkened room and winced, and no, he was definitely not early.

Which also raised the question: why was Arthur still in bed? The prince had the uncanny habit of waking up early; earlier than Merlin thought he himself was even supposed to be up, to the extent that he certainly got the feeling that the blond did it just so he could berate Merlin for being late in the morning.

Merlin always argued that he was on time more often than he was not – because he was – but Arthur wouldn't hear any of it. It was as if he simply fancied the blaming more than he really cared about whether or not Merlin had something in particular to be blamed for.

If he were to be completely honest, which was never going to happen, he didn't mind the teasing so long as his non-existent transgressions didn't get him thrown into the stocks.

The sound of light snoring drifted through the room and Merlin turned, almost incredulous, to find that the prince had definitely just dozed off again.

“Sire,” Merlin spoke and put a hand on Arthur's shoulder to start shaking him back into wakefulness. “Arthur.”

At that, Arthur stirred, but he did nothing else but turn over onto his other side, away from Merlin's direction, and bat his hand away.

With a groan, Merlin grabbed Arthur's arm in retaliation and attempted to heft him up, to at least get the princely prat to sit up, but was only rewarded with the increasing knowledge that he was either getting weaker (and he hadn't been that strong in the first place, admittedly) or Arthur was getting fatter.

Purely out of spite, he was inclined to argue the latter.

“Arthur you need to get up,” he groaned, defeated, and sat himself down on the edge of the bed right next to his prince's arm. “Or... or...”

“Or what, _Mer_ lin?” Arthur spoke in reply, but Merlin didn't miss the way his body tensed as he spoke and his eyes scrunched even tighter shut. He was sure the princes' tone was meant to be something along the lines of threatening, likely with an amused undertone at the thought that his servant would _actually_ be able to do anything to him, but if anything, it seemed to come out pained.

“Or you'll miss your training and likely get in trouble with your father, for one. But I am also not above tearing these sheets away and leaving you in the cold.”

Which reminded him that he really should light a fire. It was a fairly cold day, after all. But Arthur caught on to his slip up before Merlin had a chance to do anything about it.

“Well then maybe you should actually do your job for once and – I don't know – light the fire, so that the room warms up a bit. Don't you think?”

There it was again, the line of Arthur's shoulders tensing when he spoke; visible even through the layers of blankets.

“Fine,” Merlin said, and stood up, but he wasn't giving up quite yet. “But only if you get up while I do it.”

The responding groan was one he couldn't help giving a short laugh to. It did the trick. By the time the warlock had made his way over to the fireplace Arthur had sat up, and by the time he'd finally got a decent fire lit the prince had made his way over to his meal. He was staring down at it in distaste when Merlin made his way back over.

“It's cold.”

“Yes, that's what happens when you take forever to get out of bed. The food cools down. Now hurry up, let's get you dressed. You're already late.”

“I could have you thrown in the stocks, Merlin,” he retorted, voice scratchy.

“You could, but then you'd either have to live without me for the rest of the day while I get clean, or bear through the smell of rotten fruit following you around wherever you go,” Merlin responded cheekily, and turned back around to sort out the various pieces of clothing.

 

It wasn't long after they'd started the knight’s training that Merlin realised that something really was wrong.

If the rough start to the day wasn't enough of an indicator (which it apparently wasn't, since Merlin hadn't given it too much thought), the decline in Arthur's performance after even just one sparring match was. Leon had already started the practice of his own accord after the prince hadn't shown up, but immediately handed over the reigns when Arthur finally got there.

It looked as though they should have left it in Sir Leon's hands.

Arthur's performance was gradually waning. He was still fighting his hardest, naturally. That was just who Arthur was. But Merlin could see the signs more clearly now than he had that morning.

The prince was exhausted. Properly, painfully exhausted, and it wasn't just from a lack of sleep, either. It was as though his body was expending enough energy just keeping him awake that it didn't have a chance to account for any other things, like standing up.

Twice now, Merlin had had to help keep Arthur upright after he'd been swaying dangerously on his feet. Twice now Arthur had shrugged him off and told him he was _fine_ , but Merlin could see the sweat forming on his brow and trickling down his face and neck.

And that definitely wasn't because of the heat or a hard workout.

The third time Merlin had to catch him, he'd finally had enough.

“Alright,” the warlock huffed, though he didn't move away from his position behind his prince and keeping him steady. In fact, he only moved closer, looping an arm around Arthur's waist and grabbing his right arm, which was soon placed around Merlin's neck so that he could not only keep the larger male upright, but made it easier on him to move Arthur around and in the direction he wanted to go, despite the prince’s protests. This, however, wouldn't have worked at all had Arthur not been getting gradually weaker and less able to resist Merlin's actions. “We're getting you to Gaius.”

Arthur protested right next to his ear multiple times, but the very fact that he couldn't forcibly escape Merlin's grasp and push him away was proof enough that he was in no fit state to be training.

After he'd pulled his prince away from the training field, Merlin locked eyes with Leon, who looked far more relieved than he had earlier when Arthur was on the field, and nodded at him. Not a second later Leon was off and taking charge of the training once again.

 

According to Gaius, it appeared that whatever was ailing Arthur was just a simple cold, nothing to be too worried about. And after a number of pointed cursory glances towards Merlin, it appeared as though he was trying to point out that no, it wasn't magical in nature, so the warlock could stop fretting. Arthur would be fine so long as he didn't try to over exert himself again.

“You need to take proper care of yourself or else your condition is going to get worse, and then this may end up as more than a mere cold,” he continued lecturing and towered over the prince as much as a demanding physician as a concerned parental figure. They had since moved from the physicians quarters back to Arthur's chambers and the blond had essentially been tied down to his bed from there after he had made repeated attempts to 'prove' that he was fine.

Long story short, he wasn't. Sitting up alone made him dizzy.

“Yes, alright. I will,” Arthur sighed, leaning against the pillows. “I still don't understand why I got sick in the first place – I'm completely healthy!”

“Sometimes people just catch colds without there being any particular reason for it,” Gaius explained. He started to pack up his herbs and other potions but not before he held out one for Arthur to take.

“A sleeping draught. You'll recover more quickly with more rest. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go tell the King that what ails you is nothing serious in nature. But I don't want to see you in training for the next two days.”

And at that, Gaius left the room, leaving Merlin and Arthur to themselves.

“I knew you seemed all out of sorts this morning. You really should have gone to Gaius sooner, then you wouldn't have had to exert yourself and get even worse.”

Merlin paused from hanging up various shirts and other garments to look at Arthur then but the prince only scoffed in return.

“Yes alright _Mer_ lin. Perhaps you're not a completely oblivious and shoddy servant after all.”

Merlin beamed, his bright smile filling up the entire room. But of course, it was always like Arthur to make an attempt at stifling his joy.

“But don't let that get to your head. Back to work.”

Merlin snorted. He'd been doing his job this entire time.

 

~*~

 

He'd tried to fill in the gaps a number of times but nothing ever worked. People, animals – they all only lived for certain amounts of time. He had to watch them pass, over and over and over again. Eventually he'd just stopped getting close. Merlin would help who he could and live along those that he did, but he never really got to know any of them on a personal level.

It was less painful that way.


	2. The Prat and the Idiot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the moment, this chapter is going completely unbeta'ed. Any and all mistakes and poor word choices are entirely my own and will hopefully be fixed when I update with the beta'ed version. But until that time, enjoy!

“You come by here a lot,” the child spoke, causing Merlin to jump in surprise. He hadn't heard anyone approaching, though that wasn't surprising; given the size of the boy behind him, he was hardly four years old.

The warlock gave him a short glance over, enough of to ascertain that his clothes signified he was of the wealthier class in the town, though that hardly meant anything to anyone aside from who to go to for the higher quality products in the area, if they had something valuable enough to trade for it. Many of the traveling mercenaries did.

After dismissing the smaller male as no more of a threat than a curious child could be, Merlin turned his attention back to the island and leant against the railing, but the little boy continued.

“You're always looking out at that island, like you're really sad. Mum says when you're sad you should think about happy things so they'll make you smile.”

~*~

There were two things Merlin first thought of when he'd woken up from his mid-day nap that day.

One, was that he definitely needed to get more sleep at night. Unfortunately, that wasn't exactly an option until Arthur either stopped having a big bright red target on his back that said 'PLEASE, SORCERER'S COME AFTER ME', which would be never, or Merlin stopped having to deal with it because his King would actually be able to notice the threat and do something about it on his own. Also of which would be never.

Basically, he was never going to get a good night's rest for as long as he lived. Merlin would like to say that he could live with that but, well, here he was again, taking an afternoon nap.

The second, was that Arthur sounded _particularly_ angry, and he had the slight feeling that anger might be directed at him.

“MERLIN!!!”

Correction, that anger was definitely directed at him.

Moving with a start, the warlock only just managed to stand up, right his clothes, and look as if he was actually doing something productive when the blond came barreling into the room looking as if someone had just pissed in his wine.

Just after the admittedly rather loud entrance, Merlin looked up from the jar of hollyhock he'd managed to grab and pretend to be adding it to an already ground mix of herbs. He set it down, in order not to mess up what Gaius appeared to be making as a headache soother. Those two definitely wouldn't go well together.

Fortunately for himself, it looked as though Gaius still wasn't back from his rounds yet. So there was no one to berate him for sleeping next to a number of the more delicate ingredients. Or wake him up for actually being quiet before sneaking up on him quietly, though the physician claimed it was never intentionally, which had the additional hazard of ingredients flying everywhere if said action happened in a tangled of limbs.

That isn't to say that it hadn't, only Merlin knew for a fact he hadn't knocked anything over, and that was a point in his favour.

“Sire,” the warlock responded pointedly, looking as delightfully innocent as he could muster. He wasn't sure what he'd done to get on to Arthur's bad side this time, but for all he knew he had nothing to be blamed for.  
And for all that the polite reply was worth – at the very least, Merlin thought that had been one of his more polite responses to the king's rage in his lifetime – Arthur still didn't look any less mad at him.

“Where _have_ you been?” he practically shouted, and though Merlin made a general gesture to the area around him it was either ignored or not noticed. “I needed you in my chambers an hour ago!”

And at that, realisation hit Merlin like a ton of bricks. Crap. How long had he been asleep? His gaze immediately shifted over to the window, and the sun did show that it was, in fact, later than it should have been. He must have been more exhausted than he'd realised.

Of course, Arthur registered his expression and rolled his eyes as his only response. He strode forward and grabbed the shoulder of Merlin's jacket, effectively dragging the warlock along with him and out the door.

“The knighting ceremony, _Mer_ lin.”

He'd caught on to that part, yes, and was moving along at Arthur's same speed. However, it appeared King Prat just wanted to take out some of his anger and shove him around a bit, and by the time they'd finally reached his chambers door, Arthur had effectively dragged him from the physicians quarters to his own room.

Not, Merlin noted, in bad time.

 

That week turned out to be what the warlock further dubbed 'blame-everything-on-Merlin' week.

There had been a number of those in the past, yes, but by far, this was the one that lasted the longest by way of length. Every day after the knighting ceremony there was another item he hadn't washed, floor he hadn't scrubbed, stable he hadn't mucked out, armour he hadn't polished, and white shirt he'd not-so-unintentionally dyed a particularly ghastly shade of pink.

That last one by far had turned Arthur multiple variations of the colour red.

Then again, it was the only item on that list that was intentional, so Merlin was quite pleased that out of everything it annoyed his King the most.

Everything else was purely coincidental. He was just one man, magic or not, and sometimes the list of chores Arthur gave Merlin to do extended so far over the line of overwhelming that he just couldn't get everything done. That, or he tried to leave it alone for the time being and get to it early on the next morning so that Arthur didn't notice it hadn't been done yet.

Arthur always noticed the one item that hadn't been done yet.

First, it had been the pile of clothes that were left to him after days of impromptu knight practices and nights out at the tavern (courtesy of Gwaine). The pile that had been left to him was so ridiculously large that even with the help of a slight bit of magic to keep the pile from toppling over, or toppling him over, some of the clothes still fell away from it without Merlin's notice. And really, weren't there maids or some other group of people designated to washing King Prat's clothes aside from him?

He always had gotten a feeling that Arthur had called those people off simply to give Merlin more work to do.

Either way, it was hardly his fault when he'd gotten back from washing to find that yes, he had lost a few pieces of clothing on the way. But of course, Arthur had gotten back to his chambers before Merlin had even noticed he'd missed the few items in the first place, and so he'd effectively been dubbed the worst clothes-washer in the world. Again.

“Can't even wash a few clothes, _Mer_ lin?”

“At least I know _how_ to wash them, instead of bossing around everyone about me to make up for my incompetence.”

That last bit had been said under his breath. Arthur still smacked him on the back of the head anyway.

“No, not everyone. Only you.”

He scoffed, but Merlin gave himself one point mentally because whether he'd meant to or not, Arthur had just admitted indirectly to being incompetent.

The second day just wasn't even fair. He'd gotten his once again extensive list of chores in the morning after bringing the King his breakfast. What Arthur had appeared to have ignored, however, was that Gaius had already requested his help in distributing potions and poultices that afternoon. Just running around for him was going to take up over half of the day on its own and he'd been given a list that he had troubles finishing on a normal day.

So, after running around for hours doing everything that he could, and using magic about ten times more often than he tried to on a normal day out of fear of being caught (cleaning Arthur's clothes, scrubbing Arthur's boots, polishing his armour, hanging up his clothes, etc.), he'd just barely managed to finish up the majority of the list by noon while Arthur was off training with the knights before he had to go off to help Gaius.

One of the tasks he'd neglected, of course, was scrubbing the floor. That was also the task he wasn't able to complete before Arthur turned in for the night.

“Merlin?” Arthur spoke from the bed, just seconds after the warlock had blown out the last candle in the room. He'd already gotten himself in and settled amongst his pillows and had appeared to have fallen asleep already, but of course Merlin would never be that lucky.

“Yes sire?” Merlin responded back curiously, though he had a sneaking suspicion as to what Arthur was going to say. And here the warlock had been hoping he'd gotten away with it so he could complete the task while Arthur was training tomorrow without him ever noticing.

“I expect you to report to the kitchens tonight to assist the rest of the servants in cleaning there, since you saw fit to neglect some of your duties today. Duties of which you will complete tomorrow, won't you?”

Merlin hardly contained the annoyed groan that threatened to escape from his lips. Cleaning in the _kitchens_. The cook was going to grill him alive before he'd even messed up on something. And so much for a proper nights rest.

“With _all_ my pleasure, sire,” Merlin responded, and didn't even attempt to cover up his increasingly sarcastic tone.

Arthur laughed.

The third one, well, Merlin didn't really have any excuse for the stables. He just hated doing it. Honestly, wasn't there a stable boy or someone whose job was specifically designated to taking care of the horses and every aspect of doing so? Because he was fairly certain there was. Which also furthered his 'Arthur-called-off-the-other-workers' theory. There was no excuse as to why he had to do that as often as he did.

Except that Arthur was a prat.

But the last one was the one that irritated Merlin the most. On a good day, polishing every single piece of Arthur's armour took a good two to three hours. And that wasn't even him being lazy, that was just honestly how long it took if he wanted it to get done and get done well.

Admittedly, most of the time Merlin wanted to get it done well, because in the situation that he couldn't stand by and protect his King himself, the armour was the last line of defense that the blond had against an oncoming atack. He'd thought it tedious when he first started working as Arthur's manservant, but by now, he knew how important it really was. And it definitely wouldn't do to have rusty or broken armour in any way shape or form.

So yes, Merlin took his time on it when he could. On occasion when he didn't have the time to sit down and clean the entire thing in one go he would clean a section of it, and the next day would be another piece and another, until he had to start back at the beginning again. It was a technique he'd learnt from some of the other servants and it was by far the most efficient way he'd seen to get everything done.

Aside from using magic, that was, but he didn't really like using it on Arthur's armour all that often anymore. He wanted to inspect it for himself to make sure everything was the way it should be.

Arthur had told him he needed the entire thing polished for the next day's hunt and as such, Merlin had stayed up half the night cleaning the armour well as he'd asked.

Except he may or may not have fallen asleep (and he may or may not have fallen asleep _on it_ ), without finishing the entire thing first. And so, when he'd woken up that morning in the armoury without the entire thing done, well, it had been a rush to finish his job.

He certainly hadn't been in the best mood after it was done – falling asleep in a horrible position and not even on a bed of all things generally did get someone in a sort of mood – and Arthur's lecture afterward about the state of it didn't help much either.

Combined with the fact that he'd been forbidden from going on this particular hunt because they 'actually wanted to catch something' didn't help matters much at all.

In turn Merlin enacted his revenge by dying Arthur's shirt pink.

He certainly felt a bit better after he'd actually gotten some proper rest that day, instead of doing the work he was technically supposed to.

He still didn't turn the shirt back to the proper colour.

When Arthur found it the previous morning, he practically choked.

“W- ..What the _hell_ is this?” he sputtered, holding the shirt in his hands at a distance and glancing from that to Merlin back and forth as if he couldn't even believe his eyes.

Merlin glanced up from his work making the bed and refrained a chuckle at the other's expression, instead pausing to comment.

“...Ah. Right that,” he spoke, suddenly feeling just the slightest bit sheepish about the entire incident, even though he'd done it on purpose and still didn't regret it. Merlin continued, “There may have been a mix up when I went to wash your clothes yesterday. But don't worry – that one is the only one that got dyed.”

Arthur still looked incredulous.

“You... you _idiot!_ This was one of my favourite shirts!”

“Well you can still wear it, you know. It's not as though it's torn in half.” Merlin then chuckled and went back to his work.

Arthur threw the shirt at his head.

Alright, so now that he looked back on it, maybe everything Arthur blamed on him was actually his fault, but it wasn't as if he was actively trying to skimp on his duties. Something that he would be hard pressed to get King Prat to believe.

 

Merlin was in the armoury when all of the knights finished their training. He was there to clean Arthur's armour once again and “Do it properly this time, Merlin,” a comment to which he very intentionally and blatantly rolled his eyes. Arthur either hadn't noticed it, or chose to ignore it for the sake of time.

As per usual, Arthur and Leon walked in first. Predictably followed by Gwaine, who not-so predictably headed right towards Merlin when he entered, and sat down right beside him.

“Well, by now you've got to have been polishing that for the past two hours. Time for a little break, don't you say?” The brunet leant forward and wiped a finger across the newly cleaned metal, and Merlin laughed and nudged him in the side. He took the rag over the same area Gwaine had just put his finger on and wiped away the new mark there.

“Sure, if I could ever manage to get a break in my entire life, that'd sound great.”

“Oh, I don't think you'll find it that hard. I'll see you at the Rising Sun for drinks tonight, yeah?” He winked.

“Ah, sorry, I've actually got a bunch of work to do,” he responded. Not that a night out every once in a while sounded bad at all, but there was no way to ever get that done with his current duties. According to Will, he had been the lightest weight drinker he'd ever met in his life, and with the hangover that was for certain to follow the day after, it wasn't going to happen when he had to wake Arthur up in the morning.

“Actually, you don't. You're dismissed for the rest of the evening, Merlin. I'll see you tomorrow for lunch.”

The voice seemed to come out of no where and Merlin nearly jumped, his eyes meeting those of Arthur's right above him.

“...Sorry, what?”

“See, Merlin, the princess and I here made an agreement at the pub a few nights ago,” Gwaine started, at the very same time Arthur rolled his eyes. And draping his arm across Merlin's shoulders, the knight inched closer, “And it was that if pretty boy here worked you extra hard this week, he'd agree to give you the night and morning off tonight and tomorrow so that you could come out and have a little fun with us. Brilliant planning on my part, wouldn't you say?”

Merlin blinked and turned to Arthur, who studiously avoided his gaze. He hadn't heard anything about this.

Finally, when Merlin met Arthur's eyes, the King gave in.

“Alright, fine. Yes, he's right. So take your night off. But I want you in my chambers with lunch tomorrow on time for once.”

Merlin couldn't help it, his face split into a grin. Perhaps Arthur wasn't being as much of a prat as he'd thought this week after all.

“Shut up, Merlin.”

~*~

Merlin couldn't help it. As he thought back, a small smile appeared on his lips, only to disappear moments later at the harsh memory of the events that transpired later that ended his King's reign.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! Like when I'm sad, I think about riding on my horse. Or how mum has the nice cook lady make me my favourite dessert on my birthday, or-...”

Merlin could practically see the child bouncing up and down in his peripherals. And while that caused his smile to return for just a moment, he still didn't turn to look at the boy. Perhaps if he kept his words to a minimum, the child would soon get bored and run off. He'd always thought that over the years children had grown to have shorter attention spans than they had when he was just a teenager himself. Especially when videogames, cell phones, and other various electronic equipment were still around. But maybe that was just him being old.

And he was very, very old.

“...Because one day I'm going to be the best knight in Afallon! And I'm going to help the sovereign and everything. Maybe he'll even look to me for advice some day! I always get excited and I want to smile at that, and...”

It took a while for his rambling to abate, but when it did, Merlin saw the chance and he took it.

“Does your mother know where you are? She must be worried about you, you should probably go find her.”

But this, of course, because it was simply Merlin's luck, sent the child off on another rambling spree.


	3. The Once and Future King and the Greatest Sorcerer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again un-beta'ed. I deeply apologise for the absolutely horrid quality of this chapter. I hope to at least fix it somewhat once it gets beta'ed.

He had hardly noticed that his mind had wandered off again until the child behind him ceased speaking.

Merlin paused, taking the moment to glance back over at the little boy to see if he was still there, and yes, he was, peering up at the older man with an expression that seemed so familiar he had to divert his eyes again at the feeling brought up that was like a punch to the gut. The entire thing seemed almost surreal, how many emotions this child was able to wrench from him after barely an hour of talking to him. Well, more along the lines of at him, really.

“You know you really don't talk much.”

That would be an understatement. Merlin had probably spoken all but three sentences while the small child before him had rambled on for the better part of an hour. Likely longer than that, if he were to be honest, but Merlin didn't know for absolute sure. He hadn't paid nearly enough attention to the sun to discern anything from that, and watches had long gone out of existence, much to his dismay. He'd particularly enjoyed a very specific gold Rolex he'd allowed himself the rare chance to splurge on at the beginning of the twenty-first century.

The child began to move, then, closer to Merlin than he had been previously and sat himself down surreptitiously at the edge of the pier, close enough that he could kick his legs off the side and over the water, but no so far as he would fall in. A deal with his mother, Merlin remembered. It made enough sense. Falling in would likely result in stains or other damages to his fine clothing that would be hard for his mum to hide from his father if he came back home sooner rather than later.

“Tell me a story,” the small child demanded, and he'd said it in such a pretentious tone that, though Merlin was caught off guard from the dramatic change in persona he'd just received compared to earlier, he couldn't help but give in and comply.

~*~

"There was once a legendary King. Said to have ruled Camelot with a fair and just hand. He created a society equal for all others, no matter who they may be. He loved his people with all his heart, and would do whatever it took to protect them from harm, both from outside and inside forces alike. His people adored him, his knights followed him out of pure loyalty and respect, his Queen loved him with all of her heart, and his most trusted friend would do absolutely anything for him, no matter the cost. He was a good man.

All the legends said and more.

He was kind, caring, compassionate, and above all else, brave.

Truly the man of legends. And really, the legends didn't even do him justice.

He'd been born under unfortunate circumstances. Due to the magical nature of his birth, his mother died in childbirth, only getting to see her baby's face one time before she passed. But in that moment, she knew that everything she had to give would be worth it.

The loss drove his father mad. As much as he had loved and wanted his son, he hadn't understood the price for such a gift. He hadn't wanted to give it. And he never accepted that the force that had allowed his son to come into life – a powerful magic – was now anything but evil.

The old king grew in rage, and anger, and surrounded by all that hatred, his son grew up in it as well. He learnt to distrust the magic and to fear it. But most of all, he'd learnt to destroy it.

Because, you see, the legendary King wasn't always as legendary as you'd think he would be. And nor was he always a king. Like everyone else, he had to learn and grow into the person the legends said he was. He had always had it in him, he just didn't realise it.

But it helped that he had a bit of help along the way.

Before he'd grown to be more than a child, the prince had lived up with everything in his favour. He was of the highest rank in Camelot, so as second in line to the throne, no one could or would dare to oppose whatever he wanted. His father, of course, did punish the prince when he deserved it, but it was only his father that could show him the consequences of his actions. As such, he grew up respecting but fearing his father; however, that respect did not transfer to anyone else.

And so he went around disrespecting his servants who brought his food and dressed him, hardly considering them to be anything but pawns to do what he said, not even people. Dogs. If they were even just a minute late, he punished them, and if everything wasn't exactly as he wanted, they were sacked. The little prince was ruthless.

He could do whatever he wanted to them, though. After all, his views were copied from his father's. The old king was the only one who he'd ever looked up to, after all, it was natural that a little boy think in the same way that his father did.

But all of that changed when a Lady came to live with them.

She was only ten, older than him but hardly even a lady by the prince's standards, and he didn't like her. She was mean, calling him names and berating him for getting mad at the servants when they didn't do their job right. It was unfair. She'd come to live in his castle without his permission at all and she waltzed around as though she owned the place.

She often got in fights with his father, too, which the little prince always adored, except when she walked away from them completely unscathed. He'd always wished his father would put her in the dungeon as punishment, but as time passed he never did.

Even as the fights with his father slowly declined, she still never stopped bossing him around. It even escalated to the point that she was always there when he was about to get mad at another servant and send them on their way. She stopped him before he'd even started or just before he was about to. It always felt like she knew right beforehand what he was going to do and made a point to stop it. And she wasn't afraid of his threats to tell his father so that he would punish her.

The little prince never did tell his father. Even though he knew the old king would take his side, he was still afraid of being reprimanded. He also didn't know if his father really would punish her like he wanted him to; he'd never put her in the dungeons, after all.

As time passed, the prince gradually just stopped disrespecting the servants so openly. He would still get mad when they messed up, and make them know that the mistake was not something he was going to take lightly, but he didn't continually sack them anymore. For the most part, anyway. His personal servant was always one that never stuck around for long, by his choice or from theirs. He knew that none of them liked him at all, so he still tormented them whenever he got the chance. He believed it served them right.

But as he grew more tolerant of his servants, he also grew more tolerant of the Lady. It turned out she wasn't too completely horrible when she wasn't bossing him around, after all. And after one night he heard her screaming from her room and overheard some people gossiping about how her nightmares happened frequently, he decided he might just give her a break for once.

That one break turned into many, and before he knew what was happening, they became close enough to call each other friends.

He'd never called her a friend, though, and she never called him it either, because that would be weird. They still tormented each other on a daily basis, but there was a mutual respect and understanding there.

The prince thought it was weird. He'd never respected anyone other than his father before. He'd never had a friend before either.

He met a nice girl when the Lady introduced him to the serving girl that she was going to have helping her now, though he didn't believe she liked him very much. She always looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face that he didn't know how to interpret, and he always thought that was because he asked the Lady why she needed servant of her own. The fact confused the prince at first, because the lady had always had servants helping her around the castle. But when he'd asked, she just told him that the serving girl was special, and she was going to keep her. And keep her she did.

It was only after the prince became jealous of the happy nature between the two that continued to persist that he decided he wanted a servant of his own too. Except whenever he tried to keep someone around for any length of time, it never turned out well. They wouldn't let him joke around with or be nice to them even if he tried, and the prince would always insist that he tried, even when he wasn't entirely sure how to be nice to the servants. So, the prince got irritated and angry at the servants not returning the favour, which in turn lead to him being very rude to them instead, just like he'd used to.

After he found out that all the knights laughed and gave him a pat on the back when he beat up on them, it just added fuel to the fire. When he was beating up on the servants a little bit with the knights, the prince felt admired and liked. Not that they didn't look up to him before that, the prince was proudly the best knight out of them all, after all, but he felt more integrated with the others when they were laughing with him at a servant. He didn't fire them anymore, of course, but what was the problem in a bit of fun?

Most of the time before they wouldn't flock around him as they did on times like those. They were afraid of him because he was the prince, naturally, but after a bit of teasing servants, they really became more relaxed around and if the prince had to choose a word for it, friends.

After the initial breaking of the ice with the knights, picking on the servants wasn't as necessary as it had seemed before for the prince, but he now started doing it just for fun. It was nice to have a little laugh in the middle of practice, and it had become a habit to make a joke about the flimsy stature or weak posture of his manservant.

The prince still never managed to keep them for very long.

But even as the prince began to grow up and his general views on the servants changed, his view on the magic remained the same, though more lax than the old king's stance.

He'd been raised to believe it was evil, of course, and so he thought the magic itself to be evil. But after he'd been forced to accept that servants were people also, he had doubts about whether the people themselves were automatically evil. Perhaps, he'd thought, if they only used spells to heal or help someone else they wouldn't be corrupted? Or perhaps there was something they could do to not become evil in the process of using the magic? The prince really didn't know, but that thought often kept him up for days on end.

See, the prince was already beginning to change for the better with the slightest of help, but years later he met someone who would change his views on everything he once knew forever.

He just needed a bit more help. And his manservant did that for him.

Except he wasn't his manservant to start off with. The other boy had just come in the castle from a town far from there and as such, he clearly didn't know what the king and the prince of Camelot looked liked, merely just that they existed. And so, when he saw the prince bullying a servant boy by throwing knives at him for practice, he stood up to him.

This immediately confused the prince, because no one had ever stood up to him before. No one of such a lower rank than he. The lady had done it, yes, but they were at least somewhat close in social class. He and this boy? The prince was much higher in status than him.

The moment the prince told him of his position, the young man realised his mistake, but it was too late by then, he was thrown into the dungeons for his indiscretion.

The prince thought it would end with that, but it didn't. Because the next time he provoked the young man, even with knowing his status, he still fought back. And he fought back hard. He was intrigued, but also somewhat riled and annoyed, and so he sent the young man away. The prince thought their interactions would end there, but he was wrong. Because the next time he saw the other male, he'd just saved his life. And if the prince hadn't been so aghast at his father announcing that the young male was going to be his new manservant because of his action, he would have been thoroughly confused as to why the hell he'd saved his life in the first place.

But after repeated attempts to get rid of his new manservant and failing, somewhere along the line, the prince began not to be so opposed to his continuous presence. And slowly but surely, though he didn't realise it, he began to change.

The prince was beginning to grow up more into the legendary King he was idolized as in the future. Somewhere around the line, he was truly beginning to realise just the type of king he wanted to be to his people. Each and every one of them, even the servants, and, perhaps, his manservant.

He began to show more acts of courage and honesty and selflessness. He stood up for what was right, and even under his father's fierce eye and judgment. Where the old king would never protect someone as lowly as a servant, the prince began to see the true value in those people, no matter who they were. Where he had grown up distrusting and hateful towards magic, he still helped a Druid escape his fathers persecution. And where his father would never help someplace so small and unimportant as a town that was even on the outskirts of their lands, he went against orders and defended the people anyway.

He still taunted and teased his manservant, but that was really what their relationship had grown into over time, and neither had a problem with it.

He'd gotten the close servant and friend that the lady had without ever realising that it had happened.

And just as well, he'd started developing an attraction to the Lady's serving girl, one that was reciprocated against all odds.

But there were still troubles. Magic users of all kind tried to either kill him or change his views on their magic at all costs, and they almost succeeded multiple times, at that. But the most hurtful experience of all was when the Lady betrayed the prince. And worse, he never found out why until years later.

While his father was unable to rule because of his heartbreak at the Lady's betrayal, the prince was named regent, and finally, his Camelot began to set in motion. Perhaps one of the most important motions of all was when he took ordinary men. Brave, but ordinary men and made them knights, despite the previous distinction only being allowed to those of royal heritage.

And when his father passed away and he became king, he was as fair and just of a ruler as he was when he was prince, if not more so.

The only problem that persisted, however, was the magic.

Later, the prince learnt that the reason the Lady betrayed them all was because she discovered that she had magic, and that only furthered his distrust in it. Throughout the entire kingdom, everyone was treated fair and just except for the magic users, because of his bad experience with them. The legendary King couldn't trust them, after all, he'd never met any magic user worth trusting, so he had no reason to.

He saw them as dangerous and a threat to Camelot, so he would not treat them as equal. And the Lady did not like that.

While the King had done what he thought was right for his kingdom: he'd married the serving girl and made her his Queen, and act that was unthinkable on so many levels in their days, he allowed anyone who proved to be true and loyal at heart to become a knight if they so desired, and he even built a round table for all of his knights and advisers to sit around, so that no man would be more equal than the other.

But he distrusted magic users, and thus, the Lady set out a plan to destroy the King. You see, she had become twisted by fear and hatred during her late years in Camelot when the old king still ruled. The Lady had discovered she had magic, but there was nothing she could do about it. And knowing the old King's hatred of it, she became frightened, and seeked out the only hope that she could get. Which, during the time, was help from her half-sister Morgause, who was also a magic user, and taught her that her magic was nothing to be afraid of.

The King didn't know about her secret, otherwise surely he would have helped her, but by the time he found out, there was nothing he could do. No matter what he said to her, the Lady was determined to destroy them.

So when the day finally came that she made her final and biggest attack, the King and his loyal knights fought back against the Lady and her army with all of their might.

Of course, the legendary King wouldn't be so legendary if he had lost.

He won the battle, but was deeply wounded during the attack. The only thing that could save him was powerful magic from the lake of Avalon. All seemed lost. The King didn't know a single magic user who would ever be willing to help him, especially after a battle such as that that was against the magic users.

Except he did, and he just didn't realise it.

His manservant, hiding his powers from his King for ten long years, revealed himself to the King while he was still injured. He promised he would save him, just like he always had in the shadows since he'd met him as the prince from years ago.

At first, the King immediately felt betrayed and hurt. His manservant had hidden this important part of him for so long. The manservant had become his friend and adviser, the person who was honest with him to a fault, and who would never do anything to hurt him. Or so the King had thought.

And the King was angry. So, so angry. But as they traveled with each other to the lake so that he could be healed, he slowly began to forgive his manservant for lying to him. Because he understood.

And after being healed, they both returned to Camelot, where the King promised to no longer persecute those who had magic, and lived out the rest of his days as the legendary King that history remembered him as."

~*~

Merlin finished the story and stopped in speech, hanging his head down in shame. No, that hadn't been how it had ended at all, but he couldn't bring himself to finish it the way that it had. Arthur's death never should have happened. It had been all his fault, and now he was paying for it.

The child, however, seemed astounded, where Merlin was now exhausted. He hadn't intended to go so far in depth. He hadn't intended to tell Arthur's story to begin with, but once he'd started talking, he found it hard to stop. Either way, there was still plenty of detail he'd left out – Lancelot, the dragon, most his own part of the story, for gods sake. But he couldn't even think about reciting his. Arthur's was, and always would be, the most important factor. The fact that he'd helped as little as he had was irrelevant.

At the very least, the boy looked to be thoroughly entertained, now. Perhaps he'd be able to get some peace today after all.

“Wow! That's amazing! I want to be just like the legendary King when I grow up. Do you know his name?”


	4. Arthur and Merlin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm debating not even putting a warning for my chapters being un-beta'ed anymore, haha. It just hasn't been happening. But rest assured, I will edit it when it does.  
> Slight warning for this chapter, for mentions of killing animals as done in sport and hunting. I didn't know if it really warranted a warning or not, so just to be safe, there it is. I don't believe it's anything that could be considered too graphic, though.

The sky around the lake was sunny and bright.

That fact on its own was incredibly rare. Most of the time when Merlin frequented Llyn o Avalon it was dark, gloomy. If anything, it was overcast. Not once had the surrounding area ever been so... well, happy looking. Not since _that_ day.

But Merlin didn't question it, he hardly questioned anything that people or the Old Religion did any more. He'd just learnt to accept it.

Just like people had learnt to accept the old man from their town frequenting the lake every week and never question it. Lately he'd gotten into a sort of routine. He'd visit various people in the marketplace, giving herbs and potions to those ailed in return for clothes and food. On occasion during his daily trek he'd venture up to the castle, to give the various cooks and other volunteers food when they'd been too busy to even grab a meal of their own. Which admittedly, was more frequent than not. As fair as the present sovereign was, there still was plenty of work to do, and they didn't have nearly enough volunteers to do it all.

Or at least, that was his excuse for doing it, anyway. If Merlin were to be completely honest to himself, the place reminded him of Camelot and he would spend every day inside the Citadel if he could. Offering his help, or merely just watching. He'd take it.

But of course, no one was comfortable putting an old man to work like that. He understood. Sometimes he thought he should have dropped his elderly appearance when he arrived in this town, but immediately dismissed the thought. It brought less questions when he wandered off to the forest for hours without a word to anyone. Or when he went to the lake and just stared out over the water, blankly.

In the past thousand years, they'd even built a short pier by the shore and over part of the waters themselves. It gave tourists and other travelers a wonderful view of the island beyond, and the structure on top of it that had remained standing even after all this time. It had become worn with use, however, and in the past couple hundred years, few people had even bothered trying to step on it, less the wood of the pier break and send them crashing into the waters below. The pier never broke, however, Merlin had sustained it with his magic some time ago, though he didn't mind people thinking it was dangerous. That let the warlock stand there himself without anyone to bother him.

In addition the pier was also originally built as an attraction for fishermen, but that idea had long since been deserted when anyone who'd ever tried never succeeded in even getting the smallest guppy. Merlin had laughed when he'd first seen someone try it. This place was a sacred site of the Old Religion, they'd never manage to catch anything in there. In the same way that anyone who ever tried to venture out to the island never made it all the way out there. They'd either get lost in a rapidly descending fog and end up back where they'd headed out from, or something would happen so that the boat either got stuck or, on a rare occasion, somehow managed to tip over with the visitors inside of it, and with enough of a distance left that they had to relent and swim back to shore, as the island was still too far out of their reach.

After a while, people stopped trying. Merlin was glad. Making sure anyone out in the waters made it back to shore safe and sound had caused him far too many stressful afternoons.

Really, after a while, people stopped visiting the lake all together. He didn't mind it, the fact just gave the old warlock a chance to sit back in his own little world without worrying about anyone interrupting him. The occasional person would walk by, but they'd never bother him, just continue on their way, dismissing the lake and the old man by it as unimportant to regard with anything more than a glance.

An old man reminiscing, is all they would think.

And reminisce he did.

~*~

If there was one thing Merlin hated about hunting it would be, well, hunting. In general. At all.

Because honestly, the warlock couldn't name a single thing that he thought was worse than another when it came to hunting. They killed perfectly innocent animals, they had to ride on horseback all day in the heat (which was admittedly more comfortable today than the agonizing heat they'd ridden through many times before, and thus added up to the only good thing about this trip), and they had to be _quiet_. A feat that, quite admittedly, was not one of Merlin's specialties. Not when it wasn't really important.

Hiding in the underbrush so that Cenred's army wouldn't catch their position was important. Killing defenseless animals was no important. And thus, Merlin was rather horrible at it.

But at the very least, Arthur couldn't say that he didn't prove to be useful when it counted.

They just had somewhat different definitions of what 'counted' or not.

After they'd finally stopped at a clearing along the tree line, Merlin was more than thankful to get off of his horse. Riding all day made his arse hurt and his horse never approved of him that much either. If anything the animal tolerated him, but Merlin would take what he could get. After years of riding Hengroen, they'd come to a mutual understanding, but there was only so much that he could expect from Arthur's horse.

What was even funnier was that he could use his relationship with Hengroen as a pretty accurate parallel for his and Arthur's relationship.

They'd gotten off to a rough start. Hengroen didn't want anyone other than her owner to ride her, and Merlin was reluctant to get on her because he was quite certain she kick him off the moment he'd even tried to get into the saddle. He was reluctant to ride at all, really, but it wasn't exactly as if he was going to be able to keep up to Arthur on foot, that was for sure. So he'd had no choice, just like she.

Eventually, they'd grown past the initial mistrust and distaste and wouldn't completely ignore the others presence while they traveled. It was good, because that meant Merlin learnt how to ride better than he had known before when Hengroen would just follow Arthur and Llamrei around wherever they went. He could give her the signs to slow down even when Arthur was still progressing at a decent pace and have her listen, instead of just ignoring him in turn for following whatever the King was doing ahead of her.

Merlin was quite glad about that, honestly. It was bad enough riding something that you had little control over, let alone a horse that wouldn't let you have _any_ control over its movements.

And finally, they'd gotten to where they were now. An even ground. Merlin would let her go off as she would like without too restricting her movements so long as Hengroen followed his direction when it counted. And if he gave her some of the sugar he'd snuck out from the kitchens before the start of the journey.

It was a bit odd comparing his relationship with Arthur to that of a horse, yes, but Merlin would be hard pressed to deny that the situations were similar. Even if the specifics most certainly were not.

Except, he'd like to think that they'd grown to more than just a mutual understanding or a neutral ground. Merlin often thought that, looking at Arthur from a distance, there was a mutual fondness there. That they were friends. On equal terms, despite all evidence to suggest to the contrary.

But as always, the reminder of his magic remaining hidden sunk to the pit of his stomach, making Merlin feel sick.

No, not on equal terms at all. After everything, he was still lying. After eight years, he still hadn't come clean.

Waiting longer just made him more petrified about the situation, but the thought of what might happen if he told Arthur outweighed that fear tenfold. Merlin didn't know if he could bear to see the pain of that betrayal cross Arthur's face again, not after his father, Agravaine, _Morgana_...

And especially not directed at him.

Merlin knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. He'd crack. Whatever Arthur may want to do with him, he'd allow him to. If he banished him, he would leave without a fight. Because the warlock knew he'd deserve it.

Merlin's mind was forcibly snapped back to the present when Hengroen nudged him in the side, sniffing around his pockets as if looking for something. The sugar, of course. He pulled the cloth bundle out of his pocket and opened it up for her, unable to resist smiling when she promptly pressed her mouth against the lump of sugar and began looking at it.

It was only then that Merlin realised that from the other side of the clearing, Arthur was looking right at him.

He locked eye contact with his king, blinking, before pulling off the best sheepish smile he could manage. Arthur responded in turn by looking at him, scoffing, rolling his eyes, and turning back to Leon, who he'd formerly been conversing with.

After Hengroen had finished off the small portion and Merlin had stuffed the bundle back into his pocket, Arthur came up to him with an eyebrow raised.

“Are you spoiling my horse, _Mer_ lin?”

Merlin's retort came back in a split second he was far too used to their easy banter and admittedly, he didn't mind it, “It's not _spoiling_ , it's giving her a treat so she doesn't hate me. Which I bet is your fault, you know. You specifically gave me the horse that hates me just to make my experience on hunting trips particularly terrible. I know you did.”

“Yes,” Arthur drawled, “Out of a line up I knew specifically which horse would give you a hard time and picked her out just to torment you. And if that one just so happened to be one of my horses, so be it.”

While Arthur was talking, Merlin had begun to unload all of the bags and supplies from Hengroen with as much care as he could, but he couldn't resist pivoting around to look at Arthur from the ground to respond cheekily. “Ha. I knew it.”

Arthur sputtered out an indignant response, promptly elbowed Merlin in the shoulder after the servant had finally stood up to grab another bag, and walked away. Not before shouting back, “Have all of my things ready in five minutes, Merlin.”

Which he would have, really. Except it appeared that Gwaine had heard their little exchange and had henceforth made it his mission that Merlin would not be ready in time, for what hidden motive Merlin didn't know, and brought over himself with both Elyan _and_ Percival to distract the warlock from doing anything productive.

 

The motive Merlin found out not long after. Apparently, the last ones to be set to go for the hunt got to be the last group to leave. He still didn't quite understand the purpose of that until Arthur explained it to him later as they were walking to an unknown destination.

“Gwaine and some of the others knights came up with the idea last night at the pub, _Mer_ lin. Though why I've allowed some drunken idiocy to actually be played out, I don't think I'll ever know.”

Arthur abruptly ducked under a tree branch on his way towards who-knows-where, a branch of which Merlin hadn't previously noticed him moving, and it less-than-gracefully came back in the servant's direction and smacked him in the face. At the noise, Arthur turned back sharply, only to bark out a laugh at the sight of Merlin attempting with little success to rub his nose around the crossbow and other various equipment he was carrying. Merlin made a motion that was presumably telling Arthur to continue, and luckily, the king understood.

“Anyway, they've come up with a game,” he stated, turning back to move forwards again, “A hunting game. The object is to hunt the most prey than any of the other groups at the end of the time limit. The group that comes up with the least animals at the end of it gets to buy a certain number of rounds at the pub later in the evening, the number of which is determined by the group with the most animals hunted at the end of the time limit. Understand?”

Merlin paused, trying to sort through all of the specifics in his head. “Um... Yes?”

But Arthur either didn't seem to hear him, or didn't even try to respond in turn, because he kept talking. “The game is clearly rigged, though. Because I've been paired up with _you_.”

“Hey!”

“Oh shut up, Merlin. You can't hunt to save your life, even if you wanted to – which, I might add, you don't. This is all just the product of Gwaine wanting me to pay for his drinking habit.”

He crouched down by a log and Merlin followed, as quietly as he could, if only just to copy Arthur's movements and prevent him from being able to claim that Merlin was trying to sabotage him. Which he wasn't. His clumsy actions just had a tendency to happen.

Readying the arrow, Arthur's eyes were locked clearly on a target right in front of him, that Merlin followed to see a bunny sitting harmlessly across the way, sniffing around for food. In a split second, the arrow flew forward from the crossbow and hit the target directly on mark only a moment later. Arthur turned back to him with a smug look on his face.

“It's a good thing, then, that I am an _excellent_ hunter.”

He stood then, and walked off to collect his prey.

Merlin scoffed, “And a very clearly modest one, at that.”

“I heard that!”

 

After two hours of rather successful hunting, it was time to go back to the clearing and make camp.

Well, Merlin considered it successful hunting. He only tripped over a root and scared away some unsuspecting deer or rabbit one time, sneezed twice, and bumped into Arthur as he was aiming for a shot, which caused the arrow to go furling into a tree somewhere far off into the distance one time.

Their (particularly Arthur's, really) bounty added up to four rabbits, two squirrels, and a bird.

The bird, of which, actually had been Merlin's score. Though it hadn't really been intentional, he'd accidentally pulled the level of the crossbow when he was fumbling around with it and it had shot up in the air, striking a bird that had been passing above them. He hadn't been particularly happy about that accident.

But at the same time, now Arthur couldn't get mad at him for not contributing.

All in all, given that the weather was getting progressively colder over the days, and game was becoming more and more sparse, they'd managed to end with a fairly decent amount. Arthur didn't agree, of course, but King Prat hardly agreed with anything Merlin ever said so he was still going to count it as a victory in his mind either way.

Of course, he had to re-evaluate his decision when the majority of the other parties came back with eight to ten animals, though mainly small in size, and laid them all out. After that, it was only a short while before Arthur let out an annoyed huff at being the one with the least animals – which was Merlin's fault and he made sure that all of the other knights knew it – and Gwaine turned out victorious, with twelve animals between himself and Percival.

Which meant twelve rounds of mead for Arthur to buy.

Alright, Merlin was also starting to get the suspicion that Gwaine had rigged this. That would be exactly the sort of thing he would do, too. Especially if he was still upset at Arthur for winning the last round of dice they'd played in the armoury. Which was incredibly likely.

 

“Oi! Percy get off my stump!”

Merlin's attention was drawn from the animals being loaded onto the cart to his right where Gwaine, apparently, was making some very indignant squawking noises at Percival, who was only just laughing back at him.

“Why don't you move me, then?” Percival asked calmly, and looked at Gwaine with a challenging expression.

This, of course, lead to ten minutes of Gwaine attempting some admittedly rather creative practices at getting Percival to move from what he had apparently already declared 'his spot'. One of which, Merlin noted, was the smaller brunet sitting right on top of the larger man, as if in attempt to flatten him into the ground where he would be able to sleep on top of him, and not have to move him. The entire exchange sent everyone into bouts of laughter, including Merlin.

After he'd loaded up the last of the food that they were sending off to the castle, the smaller serving boy started his way back to the castle. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Merlin was genuinely hoping that the kid would be alright. Daylight was fading quickly and while the castle wasn't too horribly far from the clearing, he still didn't want to see the kid get hurt. He hardly looked big enough to ride the horse, let alone carry all the knights game in a carriage trailing behind him.

But, as Arthur had remarked multiple times while Merlin was loading the food up, it had to be done. They needed to get their game to the castle as soon as possible, so the cooks could preserve it for the feast the following evening.

That still didn't mean he liked it, but Merlin abated. The hunting party was all staying in the clearing for the night but they did have Lucan going along with him, so he was willing to let the issue rest.

Now, he had to focus on helping some of the other servants in cooking all of the meat.

 

Sometime after everyone had gone to bed, Merlin stayed awake restlessly, just staring at the trees and the stars overhead. He'd been having more of these nights, recently. Filled with anxiety and doubt, and he didn't know what to do.

Everything had been going wonderfully in Camelot. They were well on their way to two years of peace and prosperity and that made him happy, really. It did. But he was also growing increasingly worried.

Arthur had done amazing things, he really had. He finally had Excalibur, married Gwen, and Morgana was no where to be seen but at the same time, that made Merlin increasingly panicked. Morgana was no where to be seen. Not a single person knew where she was and though a few rumours had surfaced, nothing had come with cold hard evidence. He needed to know what she was planning. What measures he had to take to keep Arthur safe. It was all he'd done since he'd arrived in Camelot and now it appeared as though it wasn't needed.

Which was a good thing, of course, but Merlin didn't know how to react to it. He didn't know how to just calm down and accept that everything was fine. Because for the time being, it was, but in the long run, it wasn't.

But there wasn't anything he could do without knowing the specifics, and the specifics were exactly what he didn't know. It was unnerving. Merlin had gotten so used to just knowing everything of importance when not many other people did, now that he didn't, well... he was lost.

With a sigh, the warlock pulled back his blanket and silently stood up, keeping mind not to wake any of the sleeping knights around him, and walked further into the forest.

Further and further, until he reached the same area that he normally used to call Kilgharrah. He didn't call him tonight, however, he just needed a spot to think and gaze up at the stars.

Merlin didn't know how long he'd been sitting in the clearing until a figure sat down right next to him, and he would have jumped in surprise, had it been a normal day that he was sneaking around without trying to be caught. But it wasn't. Merlin wasn't particularly trying to make his way out without anyone seeing him, so it didn't really matter.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked from directly beside him.

Merlin tore his gaze from the sky overhead to the king beside him, whose hair was giving an almost fluorescent glow from the light of the moon, and nodded.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I am. Bit strange though, isn't it? Being alright.”

It wasn't the complete truth, of course. There were still many, many things that he was in turmoil over, his magic and Morgana for one. But he could alleviate one of those burdens, if only he could just get the words out. It was perfect, just sitting here right next to them. Not confined in the castle by rank or among the knights with an image to uphold. Just here, in the clearing of the night sky. Just Arthur and Merlin.

He heard Arthur give a slight chuckle beside him, and he answered his question without thought, “Yeah. It really is.”

And try as he may, Merlin just couldn't force the words out. And that fact haunted him for years.

_I am a sorcerer. I have magic. And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you._


End file.
